Club Prive Roma

  In a club Prive

In a Club Prive
Naked
I sat talking
About the weather

In a Club Prive pool
Naked and wet
I sat in conversation
About football

In a Club Prive bar
Still naked
I complained
About the price of food

In a Club Prive private room
Naked but covered by men
I was fucked
Again and again

We all look ridiculous with our pants around our ankles!

I've had moments with managers
I've had polite politicians
I've had desirable doctors
And caring chefs

I've had busy times with businessmen
I've had tender teachers
I've had sexy solicitors
And active accountants

I've had jealous journalists
I've had a good fucking from footballers
I've had attentive actors
And protesting policemen

But when their pants are around their ankles
I have to laugh
They are the same
And all as ridiculous as each other

And that is often what sex is
X
So just enjoy
Don't give sermons

I still have my knickers!

They are a little worn

But not torn

Colour still vivid

Not faded

They fit well

But you can tell

I'm inside them

But also outside

They used to slip

On and Off

Like a smoker's cough

Off more than on

They were pulled off

Slipped off

Yanked off

Eased off

They were left on the floor

By the door

Around my ankles

Below my bum

They were never mine

I just wore them

Men explored them

Men adored them

I still have my panties

My adventures unspoken

But in the elastic and material

Lies my story

The Bus

We sometimes take the bus just for the ride!

There was no need
I was not going anywhere
I did not need to be anywhere
It was just an impulse

There was an empty road
An empty seat
So I took it
It was there

There were many seats
Offering similar views
Of similar places
But I sat near the window

I could see and be seen
The window of life
Capturing the movement
Of the day

I was thrown about
Knocked around
I bounced up and down
As we raced to our destination

The destination was not important
But to arrive was
Arrival meant something
I was travelling again

The bus emptied
The city's seeds flushed
Through the doors
And dripped into a waiting life

I sat on a warmed seat
And wondered
Should I take another bus
Or just stay on this one

This bus I knew the route
I had travelled its routine
And witnessed its contents
And knew what to expect

And I stayed
On my warm seat
With no timetable
And only the excitement of routine

The umbrella would not open

It was a grey day
An English grey
Smudged and smeared
Blacks and whites
Scythed the skies
And mottled shades of
Dark and light
Sank into the horizon
And lay in wait
For the morrow

The night ejected the grey
Like a smoker's breakfast smoke
And street lights haze
Made angels appear
And the floating whites
Of car headlights oft dazzled
And splattered the pavement
Spotlighting dog shit drying
As moonlight spat

And the spits became splodges
And hair dampened
Dripping over my face
Smudging mascara
And revealing a nocturnal warrior
Intent on being dry
But revelling in the damp
The umbrella snapped into action
But would not open

A broken umbrella
Like an unfulfilled life
Hanging around in useless anticipation
For something, but inert
And the rain only deepens
The frustration
Of getting wetter
But carrying a weapon
Of the past

Windows

Windows

What window are you?
Do you hide those looking in?
Or those looking out?

Many people obscure,
They erect blinds
And curtains are drawn

However, you can see through me
I am tainted and torn
But continue to darken the light

I create shadows
That men hide in
And where I'm hiding now

The window was opened
And now it's shut
The paintwork making a seal

Leaves

Autumn Leaves

Yellow and browns, the autumn outfit
Some want to sparkle
And throw on the red dress
The very red dress
The dress that means I want action
But most settle for brown and yellowish shades

None remain blemish free
But most contain the stains of a summer party
Some cling to the past like a leech
Even October winds cannot induce a fall
They wave defiantly above the carpet of friends
Who once created summer shade
And a respite from August heat

But like all, they will fall
As winter's chill knocks and grey skies plough the heavens
The last leaf falls, dropping like a tired child's eyelids
After an exciting day
But already life is stirring within the sturdy trunk
The life blood of tomorrow's leaves stir
Slightly, awaiting spring and a new passage of time
A passage of time when the leaves of Fall
Are quickly forgotten
And all looks forward to the blossom and the buds